Digging for an old boot and throwing away the new
by Atheniandream
Summary: Waht the title says...hehe
1. Default Chapter

Title: Digging for an old boot and throwing away the new  
  
Author: Athena.   
  
Email: atheniandream@aol.com  
  
Content Warnings: Angst,   
  
Pairings: S/other S/?  
  
Spoilers: CHIMERA!!  
  
Season: Seven  
  
Rating: PG-13 I think. Maybe More, Sorry.  
  
Summary: What the title says...hehe  
  
Author's notes: I' trying to explore the bounds of Carter as a character, coz Jack doesn't say much...  
  
Archive: Anywhere. I'm my own publicist.   
  
Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING. I know this.  
  
-------------------------------------------  
  
Digging for an old boot and throwing away the new  
  
-------  
  
I've been driving round for three hours.  
  
I can't seem to stop from drowning my thoughts. From levitating my inner most desires, and fucking them straight up, 'vodka style'; sideways, upside down and back to front until nothing takes placement within my mind. And everywhere there's this kind of pain, remembrance and shame that I even thought of grasping life by the balls, and deciding to move onto the greener, shinier pasture. I'm a rusty spinning top, not quite workable, but useable and familiar to the point of being boring, and for time it has proved lost, unfound by a man who doesn't know the real me.   
  
Impulsive.  
  
Loyal.  
  
Independent.  
  
Resourceful.  
  
Boring as hell.  
  
And suddenly I'm new. I'm unused and exited and exiting. I'm sexual and impulsive and irrational to the point of being completely interest in the fact that a man has done this.  
  
Not the man who caught my attention. But the man who attention was caught by me.  
  
And it's wonderful, and fun, and full of sex, and dinners and phone calls, and walks, and nights in. Bubble baths and Take out' for two. And his lips are so soft. Not like butter, much smoother and less harmful. His smile is warm and enticing. Not like a bear, not half as deadly; but instead, like a kitten, completely irresistible.   
  
He's that cold shower I should have found at 25. But maybe, had I found him, and then I wouldn't be here, having fun. Maybe I needed the time to realise what I've been missing...  
  
But liken all time of wonder, somewhere that rusty spinning top found me, there's a part of me spinning and drowning along with the rest of it.  
  
So I smooth down the hair that I sent 2 hours playing with, and the very small red dress that resembles lingerie, but that I spilt wine down at dinner; and I get out of my car.  
  
I walk 15 yards to the nearest house, and I knock.  
  
Before Dinner, I wouldn't have even thought about it. I wouldn't have even contemplated this kind of decision. I would have thought it stupid and 'Too soon'. Some things are made to wait a while, a life time, even and   
  
I wasn't made for decisions. But I'm new now, and I've had wine. And an itsy-witsy bit of vodka.  
  
The door opens.  
  
"For crying' out loud-"   
  
"I'm happy. But, Kiss me, and I'll leave him."  
  
Sadly people don't change, and once again, I'm choosing the old boot, instead of the new, because I'm still not finished spinning...  
  
TBC  
  
-----------  
  
Please Feed if you want the sequel, otherwise I won't bother ;)  
  
Athena 


	2. Digging for and old boot and throwing ou...

Title: Digging for an old boot and throwing away the new-Part two  
  
Author: Athena.   
  
Email: atheniandream@aol.com  
  
Content Warnings: Angst,   
  
Pairings: S/other S/?  
  
Spoilers: CHIMERA!!  
  
Season: Seven  
  
Rating: PG-13 I think. Maybe More, Sorry.  
  
Summary: PART TWO of the saga  
  
Author's notes: I' trying to explore the bounds of Carter as a character,   
  
coz Jack doesn't say much...  
  
Archive: Anywhere. I'm my own publicist.   
  
Disclaimer: I OWN NOTHING. I know this.  
  
---------------------------------------------  
  
"Say something." she groaned, rubbing at her neck, as it grew colder in the air that circled the front porch.  
  
His frown seemed to grow with her sentences, and he couldn't help but look at her. This was Carter, right?   
  
His Second in command, the woman who fought beside him; who had all the brains, answers, logic and reasoning?   
  
Wearing half of a dress and as much make-up, making her look as much the exact opposite as he'd seen her everyday.  
  
"Jack!" She shouted, waving her hand as she struggled with the long sleeves of her coat.  
  
"What do you expect me to say to that Carter?" He wiggled he saw as his hands stressed to emphasise his point.  
  
What was he supposed to say? Sure Carter, come in, let's hump, it'll be great. I'm not old. God forbid Jack, don't   
  
let that out of your brain. Don't even let the thought circle your head and exit out through your ass...  
  
Her eyes shut slowly and her mouth slurred at little as she answered, "I don't know...." trailing the end of her   
  
sentence, and in the process she swayed back, almost losing her balance.  
  
"Whoa there." Jack stepped forward, automatically, without any normal hesitation put his hands around both of her   
  
wrists to steady her. She looked at his face instantly, and for a second 'Carter' was in there, not completely, but almost.  
  
"Do you find me attractive Colonel?"   
  
"Carter, I'm not going to answer that on my door step..."   
  
"Can I come in?"  
  
"God No! Not like that." Good one Jack...  
  
"Why Not? What? Rules? You're scared to answer because stupid little rules?" She mocked him but just ended up   
  
looking drunk.  
  
"I remember a not so drunk Carter being the poster child for 'The rules'"  
  
"Well, that until I met a certain rule breaking Colonel who by the way looks great in just his boxer-"   
  
Before she could finish any part of the sentence that would incriminate them both, he quickly silenced her.  
  
"Carter. This is not...good, okay? How much have you had to drink?" He could see her swaying below her,   
  
and he hadn't moved for fear that she'd end up in a heap on the floor, and it was cold outside, so it   
  
must have been making her worse. He had to get her home.  
  
"That's none of your business Mister..."  
  
"Look did, um Pierce let you drive, like this?"  
  
"Pete."  
  
"What?"  
  
"His names Pete."  
  
"Whatever. Look you have to go home Carter, you're drunk."  
  
"I think I'm old enough to judge that for myself thank you very much." She waved her finger at him, almost hitting his face.   
  
"Whoops."  
  
"Come, you're going home Ms Carter." Grabbing her elbow, keys in one hand, he shut the door and started to lead her   
  
down the drive.  
  
Her gaze turned to him, and for an instant she showed by the lines on her face and glazed essence hidden in her eyes   
  
the amount going on in her head. Was it really Carter? What was she not saying?  
  
"Don't father me Jack, I don't need that."  
  
"No Carter, you need coffee." Opening her car door, he fed her through the door, letting her trample her way to   
  
the seat, in slump quietly against the back, as he found that her keys we're still in the ignition.  
  
-----------------------  
  
It had been five minutes into the Journey and Jack eyes were mostly on the road. And occasionally on a very still,   
  
quiet Carter, who just looked out the window.  
  
What kind of fool had she made of herself? Actually she didn't care about that, the fact that he'd denied her had   
  
to have been a big enough blow to her ego. If parts of it weren't still scattered across his porch. She felt like   
  
a naughty Child, who was being taken home by her Uncle because she'd made a pass at him and. God no, that was an   
  
awful analogy.   
  
Finally, and quietly she spoke up. "What's been going on?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Us. What the hell is going on?"  
  
He immediately turned his eyes back to the road.  
  
"So help god Jack, if you don't flash me, I'm gonna flash you!" Although her tone was calm, it still caught his attention,   
  
and he laughed quietly at her.  
  
"Carter, I don't' know, okay? I try not to think about it."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Because I'm not allowed to."  
  
His comment sent her quiet once more, and her brow twitched sporadically, before she spoke again.  
  
"I used to like you. I thought you were cute. And, that was it. Nothing else. And then one day, it all changed.   
  
And was Jealous and possessive, and I thought about you, and I worried about you, but I thought I worried about   
  
Daniel and Teal'c too. I do, but, Its just...different." Her breath quickened as the thoughts in her head continued   
  
to pass through her mouth.  
  
"And everything's so screwed, seven years of crap all messed up inside, where I can't, I can't even talk about it.   
  
All I do is worry about you, and stay away from you and you admitted that cared about me and scared me.   
  
If you tell me you don't feel anything for me then I'll never talk about it again."  
  
"Sam,"  
  
"Yes Jack."  
  
"We're here."  
  
She let out a groan, and opened the car door; but as she swung one leg out at a rate of knots, her heel bent over,   
  
and she rocketed to the pavement, letting out a yelp as she got up. "I'm fine, I'm fine." She held out her hands  
  
as he came to her side.   
  
"You are going to wish we'd never met tomorrow."  
  
Circling her eyes beneath her lids, her head racked with the potent alcohol swimming in it. "Oh, I'm there. Believe me."  
  
When they arrived at the door, Jack took he keys from her, fumbled for a few seconds and then helped her inside.  
  
"Right Carter, just step over the mat, slowly, I got you." He commanded her every inch down the hallway, rubbing the   
  
backs of arms with his thumbs, and then let go until she was able to Stand on her own. She'd already taking her heels off,   
  
and by looking at her, she really as quite small. Not anything like Janet, but against his own height, which assumed as   
  
more of an Oak in a cabbage-patch of people, she was smaller than he though she was. Was she shrinking??....  
  
Her wide eyes gliding to his with a floaty and unfocused expression, she broke the inches between them.  
  
"Carter?" He hissed into her hair.  
  
The air became so serious, and they laced her words, setting the mood, and instantly alerted him to the red area.   
  
  
  
"Why won't you answer me?" She purred quietly, licking the remaining lipstick from her bottom lip.  
  
"Because you're dangerous like this."  
  
"Dangerous. Why? I'm Just Carter. The same Carter you see every day."   
  
"Oh, I very much doubt that Major..."  
  
Why was he holding all this up, huh? Was it some Machiavellian pursuit to get her at her weakest, demanding him, so   
  
that he had nothing to lose but his load? Right now, she didn't care how it was lost, seven years of waiting and angst   
  
was starting to get to her now.  
  
"Thank you." So she opted, out and reached up to cup his left cheek. Letting her body press into his for an instance,   
  
she released a kiss on his cheek, and her gums ached like morning coffee as she pressed her lips a second longer.  
  
Unknowingly she'd given up just enough to affect him, and he shivered completely over her, and stepped back like a   
  
schoolboy's first Kiss. Rolling her eyes she retreated for him and shut the door.   
  
"Grow up Jack."  
  
"What?" Wait, Had he missed something deafeningly important?  
  
"Nothing, I uh-"   
  
As she stopped mid-sentence, he looked around to where she'd stopped, just before the lounge.  
  
"Carter, what?" Coming up behind, he was shocked to find a man in the Lounge.  
  
Carter's Lounge.  
  
On Carter's Couch.  
  
In Carter's House.  
  
Oh. Pete.  
  
So, this was Pete...? Well, he was...boringly average. Don't get me wrong, not offensive looking, nor a bad dresser,   
  
just a little too...plain?  
  
"And you are?" The man sat angrily on the couch, playing with the material strand that hung from the fringing on a cushion.  
  
He was also looking at Carter.  
  
"Colonel Jack O'Neill. Look I'm going to go.... uh, Pete?"  
  
"Yea."  
  
"Yea." He mimicked back at him, rocking in the balls of his feet, whilst still trying to gain the attention of a   
  
deadly still and still drunk Sam.  
  
"Carter, I'll see you tomorrow.  
  
She didn't move.  
  
But he sure did. Right out that door.  
  
TBC   
  
----------------------------  
  
Still going although I'm getting bored. So if you don't' get another part, then don't' be surprised. ;)  
  
Athena 


	3. PART THREE Digging for and old boot and ...

Digging for an old boot and throwing out the new.   
  
PART THREE (Disclaimer in first part)   
  
------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Author's notes:  
  
Finally.  
  
Sorry; it's not beta'd, My beta's away, and I don't want to re-enact the last time I asked for a quick beta online. People are so helpful. Not ;)~~~~~Never the time to bitch, Athena   
  
-----------   
  
One Samantha Carter, crashed her forehead against the hardwood of the work surface in her lab, as she cringed a putrid yellowy-green inside,   
  
Damn the world for creating the hangover....  
  
But in a reality that she'd sooner ignore, it was her dainty little hand that picked up the drink, and then tossed it down her throat. *That* she couldn't ignore, but it just wasn't like her. In all of her 35 years she'd never been one to reach for the bottle like others she knew, a certain Colonel flashed precisely in her mind, and she almost wretched at the vivid recollection that something Stupid had happened last night.  
  
She remembered Pete, a topic she'd preferably want rub from her memory right now. Their argument was abysmal. Shouting hollering. Presuming Just About every bad thing that could be said had been said, and she knew one ting. It wasn't working, none of it. Had t all been a façade? She didn't want to believe it, but maybe the drunkenness was her wake up call, if she could believe it. And then there was the drunkenness again...the feeling of being very, very intoxicated and warmly oblivious and openly comfortable near The Col- Oh Damn it.  
  
Damn the world for creating the hangover...  
  
The Colonel.  
  
A Situation.  
  
A dress.  
  
A kiss?  
  
Where is the coffee?  
  
"Commissary." She grunted like some low level primate of the past. "Coffee."  
  
---------------  
  
When she finally arrived at the commissary, she felt the need to turn her and swing-step and her tray right back where she came from when she found Jack alone, with a pink spoon in his hand, staring at a plate of Pasta. But this was stupid, he would understand, right? Surely in his 4-something years he'd experienced his own levels of intoxication, some of them more work related than recreational, but maybe, just maybe he'd understand?  
  
Sucking in a deep breath, she made her way over to the table, placing her tray opposite his.  
  
" Pasta? For breakfast?" She queried.  
  
"Uh-huh." He grunted reassuringly.  
  
"Any particular reason for pasta at this time in the morning?"  
  
"No Jell-O."  
  
She immediately smiled at the welcoming boyish image painted on his face, making him either very interested or scared of the pasta. Or worse, of her...  
  
She dug into her muffin, breaking it in two, and tried to not look like she'd felt inside, minus the hangover.  
  
"So, I'm sorry about yesterday."  
  
"Oh, how are you by the way?" He motioned to her forehead with his spoon.  
  
"The head? Hurts."  
  
"Did you clear things up with what's-his-name?"  
  
She became deadly quiet, what was she supposed to say?  
  
"Oh, we broke up."   
  
That was what she was supposed to say...  
  
His eyes immediately flickered, the browns darkening instantly. He pursed his lips, letting out a sigh.  
  
"Oh. I'm sorry."  
  
"Yea. Me too." Her eyes flashed away from his, her necking feeling increasingly heavy. "Look, Colonel."  
  
"Yea?"  
  
"Can, speak to later, in private?"   
  
She didn't even have to motion to the people around her. He knew what she meant, and nodded quickly. And in some kind of peaceful acknowledgment, it soothed her not to have the whole rigor of explaining things to him. And it helped in the times when he wasn't playing dumb. "Top o' the mountain? Six?"  
  
"It's a date." She confirmed. Was that a little presumptuous?  
  
Her speech faltered immediately, and she stood up. "Not a date, date. Okay, I have to go, stick my head down a toilet." She picked up her tray, pushing in her chair. "Enjoy...the spaghetti."  
  
"Thanks. Have a good one."  
  
Again, and with much emphasis, Damn the world for creating the hangover....  
  
--------------------------------  
  
Sam looked at her watch. Eighteen Hundred hours, and 13 seconds.  
  
Where was he? It definitely wasn't like the Colonel to be late.  
  
"Gee, Carter, did you have to pick the top of damn mountain?"  
  
"Sorry." She laughed at his half attempt to get to the rock she was sat, on. "I guess I'm definitely over the hill now."  
  
"Oh I would say that. Near to it maybe." She raised an eyebrow as he sat down beside her, and he couldn't help but frown.  
  
"So. What did you wanna talk about?"  
  
"Us."  
  
"Oh."  
  
She shuffled at his discomfort just because she'd brought it up.  
  
"Look, I'm sorry about last night. You know, I wouldn't have done that usually. I wasn't given the nickname 'Work obsessed frigid bitch' for no reason,"  
  
He chuckled quiet at the recollection of the name that Siler had made famous to the identity of Sam Carter.  
  
She continued, making sure that he was listening, he had a habit of blocking her out at times...  
  
"But, what I said, all of it, was true. I tried to get on with my life, forgetting the past, and the situations, that we've dealt with; but it's so hard. And I feel like it's easy for you. I don't' know what you're thinking, ever, and that's very hard for me. But there's something going on, on my side anyway. I randomly took a chance, and ever since, I've been digging for old boot, and throwing out the new one. Do you get me?"  
  
He tightened his lips, as the corners turned slightly "Uh...something to do with boots?"  
  
Although annoyed at his aversion of the question at point in hand, she couldn't help but smile.  
  
"You know what they say about the man with big boots?"   
  
"No..."  
  
"The man who have big boots, have even bigger feet, and the man who have big feet..."  
  
"Have great life with blonde babe in small bikini?"  
  
"Something like that." Her tone lowered, and her smile lessened. "So are you going to sidestep everything to do with 'us'?"   
  
She fidgeted, and couldn't quite make her gaze. She needed to believe that she wasn't the only and going crazy at the same time. His eyes where almost pearlescent, and in hem she saw the view that they had yet to look at. It seemed to her that every cheesy-ass moment had a view, or something ornate to look at. She supposed that, that was just the cliché of life. Hell, she was sat next to one honkin' big cliché right now...  
  
Turning his head away from her, he began to speak. "Look at that..." he whispered, pointing to the right of him. Her eyes immediately searched the sky next him. Not quite seeing what he'd indicated, she leant behind him narrowing her eyes. He always had a simpler way of looking at things.  
  
"What are loo-"  
  
So.  
  
That was what he was 'looking' at.  
  
What a cheesy way to kiss her.  
  
But god, the way his hand fitted underneath the back of her hair smoothing at its unconditioned roughness, it sure felt good.  
  
"I as waiting for you to get sober before I did that." He mumbled; his face was inches away from hers.  
  
"Damn you Jack O'Neill." She rested her forehead against his, before breaking apart and taking in the view, finally. "Well, It really is beautiful up here."  
  
"Yep. But if you take out the woman, it's a little boring. For an old shoe I mean."  
  
She smiled again. And maybe she'd be doing a lot of that from now on. She didn't know, and she didn't care about anything right now. Which was a very displaced reaction for her to have. Maybe she brought a little more of that out of him.  
  
Oddly, as she looked at him watch her, she couldn't help but be annoyed at how easy everything had been. It you don't' count the fist seven years of Angst, and depression, and complication, hope, destroyed circumstance and drama.  
  
But they don't matter really...at least she knew the boot fit. Finally.  
  
--------------------------  
  
Saturday Morning.  
  
And a loud knock came at the door from two men, sort of.  
  
A certain frowning Daniel Jackson, and smirking Teal'c, who's company had come at the door of Samantha Carter's very suddenly indeed, following an over-heard comment in the infirmary of all places.  
  
The door opened, along with no 'door opener' a plethora of noise and stifled giggling from behind it.  
  
"What the?" Daniel mumbled, waiting for who ever it was to fully reveal themselves.  
  
"Oh My..." Now wishing they hadn't,  
  
"Hey Danny. Teal'c." Jack opened the door, a towel slung round his waist and his short evidently drenched against his forehead. "What do ya want, I'm kind of workin' on a time frame here..."  
  
Looking rather too sheepish for his own good, Daniel Started to speak, but stopped as soon as a loud voice shouted from behind the door.  
  
"Jack O'Neill! I'm covered in sauce, damn you! GOD, it's SO cold." The feminine voice yelped.  
  
Jack was, by now, getting extremely anxious in front of them-Time to make a swift exit. "Guys. I gotta go."  
  
"O'Neill, are you engaging in sexual practise with Major Carter?" Teal'c asked in his plainest voice. He knew how to embarrass well.  
  
"Umm. You could say that..."  
  
"I wouldn't..."  
  
"Danny, Teal'c, Carter's not here. Bye."  
  
The door shut immediately, and the two men turned around toward their car. "Jack looks good for his age."  
  
"I agree."  
  
"How old is he?"  
  
"I'm currently unaware Daniel Jackson."  
  
"Figures..."  
  
-------------------  
  
Ah....the old boot.  
  
--------------------  
  
Feedback? Hell yea. Pwease?  
  
Sorry to all who thought it as short, I feel like there's something missing, but I can't put my finger on it, s if you know then email me.  
  
Athena 


End file.
